


jiāchǒu bùkě wàiyáng

by caesarions



Series: WANTON, or, the silk road love triangle [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ancient Rome, Babysitting, Children, Coitus Interruptus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Persian Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesarions/pseuds/caesarions
Summary: Now knee-deep in the throes of the Three Kingdoms era, China assumes he will not be traveling as far as Rome again for quite some time. But after centuries of correspondence, Rome's letters switch subjects like a whip—he is a father now!  China finds himself sending gifts of toys and games instead of jewelry and steamy self-portraits. During a lull in Chinese politics, China decides he might as well visit the children he has heard so much about—but without a thought as to Roman politics and its current Imperial Crisis.The decision might give him more than he bargained for.





	jiāchǒu bùkě wàiyáng

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: 家丑不可外扬。a family-based chinese proverb that reads, 'family shames must not be spread abroad'.
> 
> NAMES: 
> 
> ancient greece - helen (shining bright)
> 
> china - wang min (clever king)
> 
> female india - kshama (patient, enduring)
> 
> female rome - maria (feminine version of romulus' nomen, their family name)
> 
> persia - ardashir (one whose reign is based on honesty and justice)
> 
> rome - lucius marius priscus romulus (shining; of mars or masculine; ancient; the mythical founder, 'mr. rome')
> 
> n. italy - agrippa marius priscus (unknown meaning; same as above)*
> 
> s. italy - andrea marius priscus (manly; same as above)
> 
> *their canon names are... not very correct. my own names for the boys are angelo and andrea. agrippa was only a popular name during the republic, but romulus is very old fashioned and remembering the glory days. a king named herod agrippa martyred the apostle james and is hated by christians overall, so n. italy changes it to angelo, an extremely christian name, once his old man has passed. andrea is originally greek, so ancient greece gave him the name. she is involved with both of the twins (because romulus is a dumbass man who should not be trusted), but biased towards s. italy because of their greek history. andrea doesn't have to change his name because it has no pagan connotations. 
> 
> the boys' exact birth is not covered in this fic because no one will ever agree on it and i'm not here to start a fight. all you need to know is that s. italy is a bit older, and they're perpetual toddlers right now.

**260 AD, Rome, Lazio**

* * *

 “Children, huh?”

“Well, it’s not like I cheated on you to get them,” Romulus huffed. He closed the litter curtains around them as they entered the city upon Min’s arrival. They had been apart about twenty five years, close to their last time spent apart. Men could only spend so long without being satisfied. And of course, separation turned the usual richness of lovers’ lives into a desert chasm. They had spent a lifetime embracing at the city gate, and thankfully, travelers were too absorbed and gaunt to spare them even a glance.

Though the sheer linen ceased none of the cacophony of the city, Min was plunged into darkness. It was almost as if Romulus was trying to hide something. “They just appeared one day, as all nations do. Or, at least I hope they are. They haven’t caught the Plague of Cyprian yet— anyway...”

“Oh, I am not upset about that part.” Min crossed his arms and stuck his nose into the air, though the effect was lost on both of them, as he was obviously reclining back into Romulus like a touch-starved toddler himself. “We are nations, like you said. Not that I believe humans practice monogamy any more than we do.”

Despite his girth, Romulus could be gentle when he wanted to be. He tilted Min’s head around by the chin; though his fingers were calloused, his grasp was like a little dove. _Columba_ , as Romulus always affectionately called Min. Min glanced down and saw Romulus’ forearm shaking violently. Before Min could comment, Romulus asked, “Does your society not also center around the family?”

“Of course it does,” Min huffed, almost offended. He rested a hand on Romulus’ burly chest. Through the rough-hewn wool tunic, Min could feel the other’s heartbeat.  “I only jest. I am very happy for you as a new father.” How could he not be, with Romulus gushing over everything from their firsts to their chubby cheeks in his letters? It was absolutely infectious—but like a plague is infectious. Min was unsure if he wanted or needed it. “None of our kind really get to experience it. I have a few child nations surrounding me, but they just use me for my culture and run.”

“I’m sure,” Romulus chuckled, smothering his real opinion in a kiss of the top of Min’s head. He played with the sidebangs that had tastefully fallen out, and Min knew he would be eager to get it down when they were alone. Though he did not understand the Roman’s obsession with his long hair, he could appreciate it.

“Are you sure you’re alright with visiting right now? I mean—” Romulus gaped like a child caught in the sweets. “You wrote about some stuff happening at home.”

Min wrapped his other arm around Romulus’ broad shoulders. Thankfully, those weren’t shaking, too. “Oh, I exaggerate. The three kingdoms are actually quite stable with each other. It is the internal conflicts that get you. Internal conflicts! Is that all we get as empires, all we are destined for?”

Romulus gulped and pulled the curtain a little tighter. “I don’t know.”

“Anyway, I have been staying in the kingdom of Wei since my heart lies in Northern China,” Min explained, leaning his head on Romulus’ shoulder. “Sima Zhao, who is only supposed to be the regent of Cao Wei, has everyone in the government bowing to his will. He went so far as to murder the emperor before I left! I do not know if it was a full coup, or if the Sima clan just wanted to make a statement. Gods, they are animals.”

“Sounds like it,” Romulus murmured, his mouth as dry as the desert his own emperor Valerian was currently fighting in.

Ignoring him in favor of the seas of reverie, Min continued, “Either way, the emperor’s son still took the throne, and I say good for him. Cao Huan seems like a studious young man. He allowed me this time off because the Sima clan have grown quiet, and the Shu Han are throwing measly pebbles at our border at this point. But who knows if he will still be alive when I return?”

The other blinked in surprise, choking on the sudden breath caught in his throat. “Oh. Why do you say that?”

“He is a little _too_ studious,” Min confessed, his face grown cold, “and you know what they say. _Sīmǎ zhāozhī xīn, lùrén jiē zhī_.”

“...I literally don’t know what they say,” Romulus grumbled after a long pause.

Min sneered, “Everyone on the street knows what's in Sima Zhao's mind.”

“Ah,” Romulus let out awkwardly. The comfort he had slowly gained on the descent into the bowels of the city and the ascent up the Palatine vanished in an instant; after languidly spreading until he and Min were one being, he his limbs shriveled back up like a desert weed.

By the grace of Jove, the litter jerked to a halt. “I believe we’re here.”

 

The strange pair made idle conversation as they strolled up the length of the _vestibulum_.

His voice echoing off the entrance hall, Min asked a question—or, more accurately, accused Romulus. “So, you wrote that you doubted we would be going to the villa this time?”

“Duty calls, and so I stay in the city,” Romulus shrugged lifelessly. “I try to take the boys as often as I can. They deserve to know both lives and choose which they like best.” He began to mutter under his breath. “Were I human, I would be in the country all the time, as my citizens seem to do these days.”

“We still made it last trip after an emperor had been assassinated,” Min countered, wholly unconvinced. He had no reason to believe any tales of woe from a fellow world-ruling empire. Though there were dips and ebbs, any empire blessed by Heaven would always peak and flow.

Their arms were entangled, and Min felt Romulus clam up once more as he had done in the in the litter. Believing it just to be a sore spot in the Roman’s memory, Min added a jest. “Not that emperors do that much, anyway. I wouldn’t pay a single Wu Zhu coin for one.”

Romulus relaxed.

The city was a far cry from Romulus’ villa in Baiae, the center of Roman lust and vanity. Min and Romulus could not say that they hadn’t fell prey to the lush countryside’s depravity. They eventually dipped their fingers into that sea of sin. A change of scenery never stopped them from stopping their debauchery, but even the city of Rome itself, that Min had spent a lot of time in too, seemed off. A little lackluster.

Overall, Min would rather spend his time in a city of carnal pleasures than a city of politics. Perhaps the two were not all that different, but surely, neither were particularly suited for children.

As if on cue, they spotted two chubby toddlers playing in front of the _domus_ ’ bronze front doors. Min was just pleasantly surprised, but Romulus quickly swooped in like a hawk and lifted the children off the ground. One _wheee’d_ on their way up. He confronted the _iānitor_ , saying, “What are they doing out here?”

Min blinked in confused succession with the doorkeeper. The slave answered honestly, “They wanted to greet you when you got home, _dominus_. I only let them out when I heard the litter pull up."

Meanwhile, the children, who Min could see to be two boys up close, stared at the odd stranger over chubby cheeks and petulantly pursed lips.

Romulus sighed heavily, but there was nothing to be done now. Min picked the balls the boys had been playing with up off of the ground. Without all the obstructions, the grandiose mosaic rich Romans had somewhere in their entryway to signal their wealth to other rich Romans was revealed again.

Tilting his head, Min thought the picture was missing a few pieces.

With toddlers in tow, pair hopped inside. Min glanced at Romulus watching the bronze doors out of the corner of his eye until they clicked shut. The sights and sounds of the cities fled from them on fast feet. The Roman’s shoulders relaxed as he looked at Min again.

“Okay!” he began, saccharinely cheerful, but the boys were squirming in his arms. Romulus set them down in front of the rainwater pool at the center of the atrium. On their very first visit, in a similar pool at the Baiae villa, Romulus had tackled Min into the water to wash off after a long day of sweating from—

Well, that was hardly appropriate to be thinking around children.

Besides, this atrium was different. Min was looking for somewhere to store the balls he’d picked up, but there were toys all over. It didn’t matter. Min rose his eyebrows at Romulus letting a mess get this far. He bit his cheek and tossed the balls somewhere nearby, but he wasn’t happy about it.

Min and Romulus stood in a line facing the boys. The Chinese man watched as Romulus bent down to speak to his children in a low voice. “Boys, I’m back with the visitor we talked about earlier. He’s going to be staying with us for a while on his vacation.” Standing straight again, Romulus turned to Min and said, “Min, these are my boys, Andrea and Agrippa.” He tapped the child on the head as he said their name. Andrea was the older one, with darker hair and skin, much closer to Romulus’ own. His entire appearance was a boyish copy of his father’s, with their similarities going so far as to unnerve Min. He scowled and looked to the second brother. Agrippa did not match the other two’s tan coloring, but there was no doubting he was Romulus’, either. The younger held onto the elder’s arm.

Min repeated bending over to their level and introduced himself to sooth the kids’ moon faces, pale and wide in fear. “Greetings! You can call me Min. I am your father’s… good friend.”

When even that did not assuage their anxiety, Romulus added, “He’s the nice man that has been sending you toys in the mail. We’ve been friends since even before you were born.”

After a strained silence, Andrea finally stepped forward. He puffed out his sanguine cheeks. “Why would you ever want to vacation here?”

Romulus immediately raised a hand. “Now, Andrea, that’s—”

“It is alright,” Min grinned. “I wanted to meet you two. Romulus writes about you constantly.”

Apparently, Agrippa had been won over since the toys were mentioned. He ran up and hugged the Chinese man’s legs. “Hi, Min. I’m Agrippa.”

“Yes, I know,” he chuckled, patting Agrippa’s head. The boy was young enough to have trouble pronouncing his name.

“Now that we’re all acquainted, it’s time for lunch,” Romulus prompted. Each adult picked up a child. Since Agrippa was already holding onto his legs, Min figured he would be the easiest demon to wrangle in. “Sorry, Min. I didn’t know exactly when you’d arrive, so the leftovers have some cheese on them. We have vegetables and bread, though.”

Min batted his eyelashes. He never felt bad for the dietary restrictions he forced on everyone else. First and foremost, he was lactose intolerant. Second, his overall tastes were much healthier. Romulus quite looked like he could use some tea and greens right about now. “That is perfectly fine with me.” Min kissed him on the cheek.

Since kissing was a usual greeting in Rome, there was nothing off yet. But Andrea was just old enough to question the timing and the intensity. However, the next soonest fact distracted his developing mind. “Wait, you can’t have cheese?” he asked from his father’s arms.

“No, we don’t eat it in my home,” Min explained as they walked into the _triclinium_. He figured Romulus notified the slaves before he left to pick up Min, for the dining room was already set up for them.

“Then I don’t want to visit,” Andrea mumbled, crossing his arms. Romulus frowned down at his son, but Min only laughed. “Then, guess what. You do not have to!”

“I still would,” Agrippa announced with a bright smile.

Since there were children present, Min reclined on a separate couch. Romulus cocked his head from his lonely perch. Min gave him a shrug; the only problem was that Min had no idea what Romulus said of their relationship. If it was nothing at all, then he did not want to scare the boys. They must ease into it, as slow as barbarians encroach on an empire’s borders. If it was mentioned in passing, Min did not want to seem desperate.

Family was a delicate balancing act, and Min was hesitant to be a parental figure if they did want or need another one.

“Help yourself,” Romulus said, passing Min the plate of steamed vegetables. To Min’s pleasant surprise, they were drizzled in a mix of olive oil, spices, and pepper. When he tried a piece of cabbage, the taste was all too familiar.

“Kshama has been treating you right, I see,” Min jested after he swallowed.

“I don’t even know if spices can go stale, but these will soon,” the Roman huffed. He covered his reddening face with his wine cup—from what emotion, Min knew not. But he poked the bear, saying, “What, is she mad at you? That means nothing. She is always mad at me.”

“Not all of my _partners_ are always mad at me!” Romulus defended himself. He opened his mouth to say something else, but reconsidered, pursing his lips and shifting his seat. “It’s because— well, sometimes trade just wanes.”

Trade didn’t wane without a good reason to, but Romulus wasn’t looking at Min anymore. He made idle conversation with the boys, cutting their bread and cheese for them. Normally, once he smelled weakness, Min would hound Romulus about what was bothering him without mercy. Because he was putting on a front for the kids, Min couldn’t get a read on him, nor was it probably a proper subject for children.

He frowned into his vegetables. Sure, they were cute, but they were making this difficult.

Keeping quiet, Min decorated his slice of bread with olives and grapes. It was filling, so it was the last thing he needed to eat. Similarly, the Italians were slowing down, using the time to relax while just nibbling. Agrippa was creating a person out of olives on his bread, and Andrea was listening to his father talk about his last speech in the Senate.

Min felt the calming, warming effect of alcohol, but it was not coming from the raisin wine. He smiled.

“Eucleides!”

Min looked up at the shout. Romulus raised his hand and beckoned the slave, a hobbling old man with wise wrinkles, closer to the table. “Would you like the boys now? We’ve been done with lunch for a while.”

“Do we have to?” Agrippa whined. Min blinked; he thought any negativity would come from Andrea. “We also had a lesson this morning! I think the _paedagogus_ deserves a break.”

Romulus rested his chin on one fist. He spoke coolly, “Tutoring is his job. Learning is yours.” Min narrowed his eyes, forgetting that Romulus had it in him to be scary. “Besides, we’re easing you into schooling. Once you get to a proper _ludus_ , you’ll be gone from sun up to sundown.”

Having lost the argument, Agrippa kicked his feet. “...This works for now. Thanks.” He jumped off of the bench, and then continued hopping his way over to the Greek slave. Andrea, too, slinked off without complaint.

Once they were alone in the dining room, it was bone-chillingly silent. With no family of his own, Min forgot just how noisy children could be. They bathed in the afternoon quiet until Romulus murmured, “Not that I ever want them to leave.”

“Oh, overprotective fathers,” Min singsonged, climbing onto Romulus’ couch where he belonged. The Roman opened his arms to wrap Min up like a baby. “They will not like their teacher or friends more than you, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Romulus muttered under his breath, burying his face in Min’s hair. “ _That’s_ what I’m worried about.”

The Chinese man scrunched up his face more and more as he thought about the statement. The realization trickled slowly and coolly down his back like rain water dripping off of the roof. “Huh?”

Instead of answering, Romulus stood up while carrying Min in his arms, bridal-style. “Oh!” Min exclaimed breathily, throwing his arms around Romulus’ neck for support.

Romulus smooched the other on the forehead. “Their etiquette lessons will take a few hours. That means we have some time to ourselves.”

“Do you like to carry people because it makes you tall?” Min asked suddenly, tilting his head.

“Hey, stop poking fun at my people’s stature,” Romulus huffed, “or I’ll carry you over my shoulder instead.”

They giggled like the boys that had just departed the room.

On good days, they took their lessons in the open-air _peristylium_. The courtyard formed the back of the house, and the atrium the front. Since all of their bedrooms surrounded the atrium, Min and Romulus could be as goofy as they pleased on their walk. He rotated between raising Min in the air as if he was weightlifting the other, and swinging Min back and forth. After twirling  around the rainwater pool and dancing their way into the bedroom, their cheeks ached, a pleasant byproduct from smiling.

Once on the threshold, Romulus playfully tossed Min onto the bed. “You never change!” Min squealed in delight as he landed. He started to undo his topknot as the Roman shut the door behind them.

“No, but you do,” Romulus grinned as he slid up beside Min. Min preferred the small size of Roman beds because it meant that they had to cuddle close together, forming one body as they already had one soul. Romulus ran his calloused fingers through Min’s soft hair, silkier than almost his famous fabric. “Your hair is a little longer. You look even younger than the day we first met.”

Sighing, Min closed his eyes as he swam through euphoric memories of their first days like honey. Romulus massaging his scalp completely severed him from the present and dropped him in the height of the Han dynasty, another whimsical summer. They were in the very vestiges of spring when Min left home, so hopefully, this visit would last into that same summer weather.

But when Romulus’ hands stilled and a beleaguered sigh rose from him, Min was forced to return to reality.

After opening his eyes again, Min mumbled, “I wish I could say the same about you.”

“Huh?” Romulus’ face cycled through emotions like seasons. “What are you talking about?”

The overall impression was one of forced confusion; he knew exactly what Min was talking about.

Min sat up, which caused his hair to cascade over Romulus, forming an impenetrable wall of night. Though defensive walls seemed to mean nothing these days, an empire could always hope, and Romulus needed to feel safe.

“You are getting grays,” Min said quietly, raking his fingers through Romulus’ curls, which used to a rich chocolate—not that Min minded the salt and pepper look. Then, he traced Romulus’ face with his other hand. “And you have more wrinkles. Or, they are actually the same as last time, and you just hold your face so sternly.”

There were more things he dare not mention aloud, lest they become real. Romulus seemed somewhere far away, torn between continents and distracted, or at least his eyes were. Min thought he saw Romulus’ utensils shaking as Romulus held them at lunch.

“Do I really?” Romulus immediately felt his frown lines. When he found them engraved as deep as the boys writing on their wax tablets, Romulus’ face blew into a pale panic. “I mean, I have other things to worry about right now than my vanity, but— do you think the kids—?”

Rolling his eyes, Min grabbed Romulus’ hand away and kissed the knuckles. As a nation perpetually at war, hey had been broken many times over, as well as his nose, but even those deformities could not detract from Romulus’ good looks.

“What, are they scared of you?” Min intertwined their fingers. “You have only set them straight about school so far, but you seemed like any normally strict parent. They are in good hands.” Or, in as good of hands as they could possibly be for nations. Min still had no idea how any of this worked, but it was much better than his childhood, wandering from village to village and discovering his immortality from drowning in the Yellow River. “Is that what you meant?”

“...Yeah,” Romulus nodded, his voice high and feeble. Previously, he had been running his thumb across Min’s hand, but now, he held it in a sweaty vice grip.

Leaning down, Min pressed their noses together. “That is out of the way, then. Tell me has been bothering you, what I missed.”

“Nothing you did not witness on your last visit,” Romulus was quick to answer. He rubbed their noses together and gave a forced smile. “You left at the very beginning of the crisis. By the time you leave now, the crisis should have run its course. Uh…oh, you missed lots of baby-raising.”

Min did not return the gesture of affection. Pregnant silence reigned as he completed the math in his head.

“I last visited over 25 years ago,” he began, eerily calm, “and the same problems are still taking place?”

Instead of sweating, the Roman had turned clammy against Min’s palms. He shrugged. “For nations, time speeds along like Mercury on his winged sandals. I’ve barely felt it, really.”

That was flowery and all, but Min’s mouth twitched. He was not wrong, but Min could only remember how things were different here in the Mediterranean. Romulus described his enemies as only living for centuries at a time. The start of the crisis that Min had been around for was the assassination of a dynasty that only ruled for 40 years—mere seconds in comparison to the eternal Zhou and Han. An empire-wide crisis that had existed for more than half of the last stable dynasty was quite the problem.

Or was it? Perhaps Min’s own perception was warped. If everything passed this rapidly in the Mediterranean, then tragedies surely fell under that list. And the East could take a lesson in speed.

Romulus seemed to think so, too. Taking advantage of their linked hands, he playfully pulled Min down onto his chest. Whatever events Romulus had been withholding, they had no impact on his nation strength—yet. As Min giggled, lying on his stomach between Romulus’ pecs, Romulus cradled the back of his head. “Besides, why I would I want to talk about that when I have the most beautiful man in the world hovering over me?”

“You say that to all of your men,” Min whined. Each bat of his eyelashes banished their last topic of conversation further into the deep recesses of his mind. Returning to his blissfully unaware outlook felt correct. Min should have known; he was always correct. He gently grabbed Romulus’ wrist beside his face and grinned.

Romulus promised, “All of them but Ardashir.”

Both men guffawed. Coming down off of the high of their laughter, Romulus added between breaths, “No, seriously. I don’t want to talk about me anymore. What do you think of the children so far?”

“Oh, they’re nice,” Min shrugged, breaking eye contact as his voice rose higher. “They might take some getting used to.” There really was nothing better to say while reclining on top of the children’s father as his own personal throne.

“Yeah?” Romulus lit up. “That’s good. I can’t exactly dump them with my sister, unlike I did with Lupa your first visit. Big dogs can be a lot. They’re like children in their own right. I have three kids now!”

It was Min’s turn to give his own skeptical, “...Yeah.” He thought he would fall off of his throne as much as Romulus’ chest puffed up with pride. After staring at each other uselessly for a whole minute, Min cleared his throat. “Don’t you think this is kind of ruining the mood?”

The Roman looked almost childishly surprised. “Oh, sorry.”

Though they had old bones now, they had both been waiting for this all day, since embracing at the city gate electrified them. But as it did every reunion, it took them a long time to get over kissing. One benefit of a long-distance relationship was that they could discover each other all over again—not that they ever forgot exactly what the other liked.

The taste of the raisin wine they paired with lunch overran all logic and sense. When their mouths finally tired, it was a miracle, and any amount of time could have passed.

Romulus couldn’t very well remove his tunic while lying down, but Min wasn’t about to give up his perch. Instead, he inched back until he could sit up fully in Romulus’ lap. The tunic was extremely short, so it was easy to slide up and out of the way for full access.

Romulus folded his arms behind his head and prepared for the show.

But whenever something went wrong in the bedroom, Min blamed hanfu, and all the layers and lapels he had to work through to reveal himself. In the best case scenario, it was like unwrapping a present, and in the worst, it was like being strangled for hours.

Min was in the middle of pulling his underwear up over his head when there was an army of knocks at the bedroom door. Telltale cries of “ _Pater_! _Pater_!” and “Open up! We want to play ball!” rang out. Min didn’t know the twins well enough to tell which one was screaming what.

He lowered his underwear back into his body. When he could see again, Romulus was blushing as scarlet as he was. Min let out a heavy sigh.

“Actually, they might take a lot of getting used to.”

 

When Min woke up that morning, he expected to be alone. The night before, Romulus had informed him of a senate meeting, and those always began with the dawn. Min thought he had been informed on short notice, but he said nothing. Perhaps Romulus simply forgot, or the government also informed Romulus on short notice. There was nothing to read into.

That was why, when he came to consciousness because felt something moving in his unbound hair, Min assumed it was nonhuman. Romulus’ beloved pet had a history of waking Min up on his visits. He lazily reached back in an attempt to push Lupa off of the bed.

Except, the weight was much lighter than a big dog. And his hand never hit fur.

All of Min’s body seized with cold panic before igniting again. With the fastest reaction time in his whole two thousand years of life, Min rolled over twice to face the rest of the room, and grabbed the boy in his arms as Agrippa fell over the edge.

“Confucius’ beard, _Tiān_ on high!” Min whispered between heaves. Sitting up, he squeezed Agrippa to his chest, his beating heart almost about to punch the boy in the face. “What are you doing in here?”

Agrippa eventually wormed his face out of Min’s silks. He stared up with doe eyes. “I woke up when I heard my father leave,” the child explained. “I came here because I thought you would be lonely.”

“And what were you going to do about that?” Min asked through a thin, forced smile. Though the children were probably immortal, Min didn’t wish to be the one testing that theory by pushing one off of a bed.

The toddler searched through Min’s midnight black tresses before he finally produced a half-finished brain. It was extremely tiny, messy, and falling apart without a cord at the bottom. “I wanted to do your hair.”

Ah, right. Children were like cats; they liked long, shiny things.

“How about, you can play with my hair later,” Min suggested, “if we keep this a secret from your father?”

“Okay,” Agrippa grinned.

Min sent the satisfied boy on his way so both parties could get ready for the day, and it was a big day at that. He would be alone with the children for the first time. Stakes were not high, since Romulus had a full staff of slaves at any given time, and Min had no actual work to do. But he had _emotional_ work to do. He needed to bond with the children to make his partner happy.

Min threw his hair into a topknot so the boys did not grab it out of his scalp. Much like chaos entities, there was no telling what kind of mess children could leave behind, so he threw on a very old overcoat. He splashed gelid water onto his face and sighed.

Last time, he had spent hours looking his best for Romulus, and this time, he felt like he was preparing for war.

Throwing open the door, the Italian sunlight streaming from the hole in the atrium roof woke Min up for good. The warmth met his cheeks, chilled from the water, which brought new blood to his face. Apollo’s rising light caught the water and sparkled invitingly, welcoming Min into the new day.

In case one or both of the boys were still sleeping, he tiptoed around the rainwater pool on bare feet. The door was ajar when he arrived, and inside, Min found Andrea sitting and reading on his bed. Agrippa was getting dressed with help from a nanny.

“Oh, you are awake too,” Min smiled at the elder brother.

Andrea didn’t glance up from his scroll. “I wake up at the same time as my father. I’m surprised you slept for so long.”

Based on the sunshine outside, it was only late morning, Min thought. He grumbled, “Well, I wake up very early at home. But here, I am on vacation, remember?”

“Some vacation spot,” Andrea shrugged.

“Is it time for breakfast now?” Agrippa asked shrilly when he was dressed, waddling over to Min.

“Uh, probably,” Min shrugged. Agrippa wiggled his arms in the air, so Min picked him up. “I assume that Romulus set it all up before leaving.”

The other brother left the scroll on his bed and followed too. Carrying Agrippa in one arm, he used the other to grab Andrea’s hand. Andrea made a face, but he didn’t pull away, as he sometimes did earlier in the week. Instead, he asked, “Shouldn’t you know, too?”

“I don’t know anything,” Min shook his head at Andrea as they walked out of the room. “Adults rarely do.”

Andrea stared at the floor as he furrowed his brows in thought. Romulus did the very same thing, Min couldn’t help but think. “Are you sure? My father seems to know… things.”

“Maybe Romulus is the exception.” Min tilted his head. “I don’t know. But there are things he doesn’t know either, because adults never really grow out of being children.”

Both boys stared at him with wide eyes. Min reminded himself that he was trying to talk philosophy with two toddlers. He bit his cheek and recalibrated.

“So, um… toys?”

 

Breakfast went smoothly after that, and not even Andrea had anything to complain about. Again because of Min’s dietary restrictions, the Roman had arranged for a bountiful fruit salad, drizzled in honey. The bread was to be dipped in wine from his own vineyards. If they truly could not make it to Baiae this trip, then he appreciated the subtle hint of their heavenly villa escape.

“I will just be reclining nearby,” Min explained when Eucleides came to collect the children for their morning lessons. “I am kind of curious to observe.”

The kindly Greek slave nodded, and the four of them headed into the center of the _peristylium_. Min’s own scrolls covered the feet of one couch like a defensive wall; one of the couple’s favorite activities was reading to each other. As the elder tutor took the second couch on the other side of the fountain, the boys perched on the ground in front of him.

Min pondered this phenomenon as he lied on his couch—his and Romulus’ couch. Since the courtyard was a sacred place for them, losing it to the children was a bittersweet twist. It was a plant’s entire job to grow, and so was a child’s. But wealthy Roman’s emerald jungles in the middle of a polluted city were rare, as rare as the chances of Min and Romulus meeting. The lush greenery hid them from any part of the world that did not care for their relationship, such as the Persians.

A historical account had been written in the state of Wei right before Min left. Since it focused on China’s relations, Min had brought a copy for Romulus, and it was at the foot of the couch right now. A brief search through the pile created crinkling noises, and Min felt Andrea’s eyes boring holes into him. Once Min found the correct scroll, he gave the boy an indignant shrug.

Yu Huan, the author, had asked Min for help. But upon further reading in the Weilüe, Min cringed, pondering if perhaps he had vented about his relationship with Ardashir just a bit too much. For Yu Huan wrote, “They have always wanted to communicate with China but, Anxi, jealous of their profits, would not allow them to pass.”

Well, Yu Huan had asked him to be honest.

He spent a better part of the morning reading from the _Weilüe_ , mentally highlighting parts that Romulus would find amusing, often giggling himself in the process. He couldn’t help it, for there was even a section on misconceptions—though the Chinese found it very difficult to admit wrong, they used to think the world ended leagues before Rome. Now, it _obviously_ ended right after.

When the sun climbed high in the sky, almost at its noon position, he could read no longer with the bright glare in his eyes. Instead, Min glanced back over. Wax tablets in hand, the boys had letters lessons today. Eucleides was rotating between Latin and Greek, but Min could speak neither language fluently, much less write it. That did not stop him; Min sat up and listened to him teaching, too. The western script had always been interesting. If Ardashir could learn them, then so could he. The old Greek noticed him staring intently and nodding, but only raised an eyebrow for a millisecond.

As the teaching went on, Min became less focused on learning and more on the simplicity of western languages. He had encountered it before, but not mused on it. His exposure had always been under saccharinely romantic contexts, such as writing their names in the sand with Romulus. Greek was just squiggly Latin. Latin was just angled Greek.

When Eucleides raised his hands in dismissal, Min slinked to the floor and sat between the two boys. “How would you like to learn a real language?”

Both kids alternated between staring at Min and staring at each other. Eucleides shrugged and handed Min his own tablet—anything to get out of the afternoon sun.

“Here’s an example.” Min scoffed at their lacking reactions. Chinese characters were exciting. He wrote the two hanzi for his name first.

“Oh…” Agrippa mumbled. His baby face melted more and more in confusion at each line. “Two languages is scary enough.”

Andrea shrugged listlessly, but his eyes betrayed him, sparkling and glued to the tablet. “Sure.”

“Do you want to do my hair instead, Agrippa, dear?” Min suggested.

“Yes!” Min and Andrea both winced at his jovial screeching. “I’ll get my stuff from my room!”

He ran off before Min could say anything, so Min turned to Andrea. “Will he be okay?”

“Yes, he knows where everything is,” Andrea grumbled, staring down at his tablet. “My father removed everything he could trip on.”

Somehow, Min got the feeling he would still find a way.

The Chinese man sat facing Andrea so Agrippa could sit behind him and not interrupt. Surely his hair would entertain the boy until lunch. And, for some reason, learning to write would entertain his elder brother.

“I can start by writing your name in my language,” Min suggested with a smile. Andrea nodded.

In the natural quiet, Min scratched along to the rhythm of the birds chirping. “Thankfully, you only have three names right now,” Min chuckled as he began running out of room.

“My father says I can get an agnomen eventually.” Andrea’s voice was a mix of childish pride and total confidence. “You get them for doing something great. He thinks I can do something great.”

Min shrugged. “Well, I do too, then.” When finished, he presented the board for Andrea to copy. “It is pretty great, huh? I always call Romulus _Romulus_. He likes it. Do you know what honorific you would like?”

“Romulus too,” Andrea nodded emphatically. He eagerly began working at his own board. Again, there appeared the signature brow furrow that ran in the family.

When he was halfway through writing, the boy asked cryptically, “Do you know him?”

Min gave him a thin smile. “I’m sorry?”

“My father,” Andrea huffed, as if the answer was clear. “I asked you about him knowing things. You said you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I was only joking. Yes, your father and I have been... good friends for a long time,” Min reassured. “And I like to think I know a lot about him.”

“I want to. It’s hard.” Once Andrea was finished, he presented his tablet to Min for inspection. “He doesn’t tell us some things. Not even me, and I’m old.”

“Good job, Andrea! This is extremely neat. Everyone would be able to read it.” While he flattened the wax with the other end of the stylus, he looked up. “But oh, you’re still very young. Adults have reasons to hide things from children. Like I said earlier, adults don’t know how to handle it either.”

Instead of letting Min do all the work, Andrea flattened his own tablet. He muttered, “I would find out anyway. But what if he hides things about himself?”

Min stopped clearing. He tilted his head at Andrea and gave him a melancholy smile. “I don’t know. I’m working on that with him, too.”

“You seem smart,” Andrea said plainly. “Will you tell me what you’ve found out? I can share… things, too.”

At that, Min just had to laugh. When Andrea looked stricken, Min reached out and ruffled his curls to assure him. “Yes, I promise. I’ll think of some things. Ask me again later.”

The elder brother was nodding as the younger bounded into the room, hopping from plant to plant to touch them all. “I’m back! I had to find this.”

Agrippa produced one of Romulus’ flower crowns for dinner parties from behind his back. Min knew their function because he had worn them on his previous visits. His amusement at the theft almost brought him to the point of tears—although, he didn’t want to see the state their bedroom was in now that Agrippa has been looking for something in it.

“Oh… I don’t think we should tell your father about that, either,” Min managed to get out through controllable laughs. “What else do you have?”

Agrippa carried a bundle of flowers in the crook of his arm. He had more blossoms sticking out of his tunic and out from behind his ears. Min assisted him in putting all the flowers on the ground. “I have all these. I pick them out of the cracks when we go to the Forum.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Min nodded while grinning. “Well, go ahead and get started, then.” He trusted Agrippa, but not entirely. He released his own topknot because not even Agrippa’s father could undo it without making Min lose hair. Agrippa gasped loudly as the black locks cascaded down. “I’ll just be teaching your brother.”

He turned back around to face Andrea. To his surprise, Andrea was writing again. With no instructions given, Min tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to write your name from memory,” the boy mumbled. “I don’t think it’s going good.”

When Andrea was finished, Min moved forward to look at his writing.

“Hey!” Agrippa squeaked behind him. Sighing, Min leaned back. Andrea handed him the tablet instead.

“Oh, no, this is wonderful!” Min praised. Andrea immediately reddened and clammed up. “Of course, the first character is very easy, but you were even close to getting the second right. All you need is another line right… here.”

“Cl—close enough,” Andrea grumbled. Min smiled and decided that they could move onto learning the most common characters.

The elder brother kept his head down, but he listened very carefully. Behind Min, Agrippa was just as silent in his concentration. If nothing else, they both shared their father’s Roman work ethic.

“Did you learn this from Maria?” Min asked over his shoulder.

Agrippa hummed in agreement. “She’s my very smart aunt. Though, hair is curly. What did you do to your hair?”

Min smiled. “Nothing. My people’s hair is just straight. Or, did you do something to my hair?”

He twisted around to see Agrippa’s face blown wide in terror. “Did I?”

Finally feeling a bit guilty for teasing, Min laughed and kissed Agrippa on the forehead. Letting Agrippa get back to work, Min turned to Andrea.

After an hour of learning, Min mused, “You might know more Chinese than your father at this point.”

Andrea’s eyes bulged like a dead fish. “What? I don’t want to.”

“Well, it’s not a bad thing,” Min chuckled uncomfortably. “He wants to see you succeed. But if you don’t want to show off, we could make him a gift.”

The boy agreed. Min assisted him in forming a sentence about thanking his father for loving him.

Just as they had finished, Lupa began barking in the distance.

“He’s home for lunch!” Agrippa jumped up. He had been braiding Min’s hair, but forgot to tie it off in his excitement. “Oh,” he mumbled, quickly tying off the length of braid that hadn’t fallen out yet.

All three of them stood up and headed back into the atrium, Min caressing the two boys’ backs.

Oddly enough, the front doors were ajar. Lupa was nosing around the entrance to the dining room instead. Sure enough, Romulus came running out with bread in his mouth and holding two napkins full of food in his hands.

“Hello?” Min yelled across the room, and Romulus stopped redhanded. “What are you doing?”

Hunched shamefully, Romulus turned around in slow motion. He began mumbling through the bread in his mouth before Min caught up to him and raised an eyebrow. Sighing, Romulus then carried the napkins in one hand and the bread in the other. He had to hold both over his head so Lupa did not jump and claim her prize. That’s what Romulus got for spoiling her with table scraps all these years.

“We have a break for lunch, but not a very long one,” Romulus explained hurriedly. He blinked at Min’s hairstyle, but only for a second. “I need to get back immediately.”

Min knit his brow in concern. “Is everything alright? I thought meetings mostly ended by lunch.”

“It’s, uh— everything’s fine,” Romulus assured while walking backwards. He had turned pallid and out of breath. “You’re doing great. You look great. I’ll be back—I hope.”

The last two words were so soft that Min almost did not catch them.

Andrea stepped forward before his father could escape, tugging on his toga in a rare sign of affection. “But me and Min made something for you. You should see it.”

If he did not look stressed before, now, Romulus’ face shattered in two along with his heart. “Not right now, okay, little one? When I get home.”

And with that, Romulus ran out of the room. The bronze doors shut out the light of the city; Min and the children were again stuck in their own bubble of ignorance. Andrea gradually tiptoed back to them, pouting at the floor.

“Well…” Min cleared his throat quietly. “That must mean that lunch is ready.”

“Hungry!” Agrippa shouted, his childish innocence getting over the incident fairly quickly. He gleefully waddled into the dining room, expecting the others to follow. Min had to because there was a lot of damage a child could cause around food. But before he could go very far at all, Min was pulled back. When he looked down, Andrea was tugging on his skirt.

“Oh, hello,” Min murmured curiously. “Can I help you?”

With wet eyes, Andrea nodded. Min brushed some wayward curls out of his face. “Would you like to tell me what I can do?”

“...What were you reading in the courtyard?” He was hiding behind the waterfall of silk. “You were laughing.”

Sensing they might be awhile, Min kneeled on the ground. “Oh, would you like a little pick-me-up?” When Andrea nodded fervently, Min smiled. “Well, I’m not sure you’ll find it very funny. It’s just history. I was laughing at my own stories and inside jokes that go along with it.”

“You can explain them to me,” Andrea said, bunching the fabric in his hands tightly. “I like history.”

“Oh…” Min whistled, blushing in a panic as he considered how much he would have to censor himself. If he and Romulus had not explained their relationship, surely, the rest would be lost on poor little Andrea. But, he had to try. “Sure. After lunch, okay?”

Andrea wanted to be carried for the first time, even for such a short distance. Min lifted him off of the ground and let Andrea snuggle into his chest. Once comfortably settled, he gently grasped some of Min’s hair and mumbled, “Okay.”

 

First, they of course had their lessons after lunch. Agrippa had spent the first half squirming and losing focus. When Eucleides asked him what was wrong, he found out Agrippa’s one track baby mind could only think about finishing Min’s hair. Min was fetched to sit in on their lesson again so Eucleides could at least pretend that Agrippa was listening to him talk about Roman manners.

By the time all was finished, Min had two braids decorated with wildflowers. Though they were quite neat, they were two very different sizes. To hide his mistake, Agrippa pinned them in a big bun on the top of Min’s head. Auntie Maria always said updos were best, anyway. Min sat there and pretended like Agrippa wasn’t shoving pins into his scalp.

When it came time to read, the golden hour hung above them. The three sat on the couch together, one boy on each side of Min. Agrippa didn’t seem particularly interested, but he never left his brother.

Instead of reciting the _Weilüe_ to Romulus like he planned, Min read aloud to Romulus’ children.

Agrippa was just as happy to take a nap to Min’s voice; there was no shame in it, for Romulus often did that too. Since Andrea wanted to learn more about his father, Min read from the sections about Dàqín.

Long after Agrippa had fallen asleep, Andrea whispered, “I thought you said adults don’t know things. You do know things.”

“Thank you,” Min chuckled quietly. He ran his fingers through Agrippa’s curls, hoping the massage would keep him asleep. “But we just pretend to know things. I don’t know how much of this is right. We use our own vocabulary instead of Latin. Adults can’t help but view things their own way.”

Andrea titled his head. “Why didn’t you correct the author?”

Min shrugged. “I know more things about Romulus as a person than his government.” Or, at least, he thought so. “I only focus on Romulus since he’s my… good friend.”

Rubbing his chin as if he had a philosopher’s beard, Andrea murmured, “So adults do know things, but they’re always a little bit wrong.”

Min bit his cheek. Was he corrupting the youth and giving Andrea trust issues? But Andrea was extremely intent on his theory, so Min patted his little head and said, “My, you’re becoming quite the junior philosopher.”

Andrea blushed scarlet. He blushed in his ears, like his father did.

Come sundown, Min was reading to himself. Andrea started out by asking a stream of questions, but they died down into a trickle as his tiny body failed him. Looping both arms around the napping brothers, Min recited quietly, so they had comfortably white noise.

A twig snapping brought Min to full attention. Without jostling the kids, he shot up and braced himself while looking at the entrance. The only thing he saw was Romulus holding up his hands in self-defense.

“Oh, it is only you,” Min sighed in relief. As Romulus walked over, Min gently situated the boys more comfortably. When they were happily reclining on each other, Min stepped back. “How long have you been standing there?”

“A while, sorry,” Romulus mumbled, hiding half of his face behind a hand. Though his face was already soft, the sunset’s rose lighting enveloped him in sentimental pink hues. Min watched his camel lashes flutter above wet eyes. “I was just… taking it in.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Min said proudly. He kissed Romulus on the lips. “A real family.”

The Roman’s lips were dry, and he did not move in response. Romulus’ eyes eventually dried too, and he had to look away. “We should let them nap until dinner. We need to talk.”

Min opened his mouth to ask why, but Romulus grabbed his hand and began leading him away. Before they could leave the center of the courtyard, Romulus’ sandaled foot bumped Andrea’s wax tablet, forgotten on the ground. He squinted. “Is that Chinese?”

“Oh,” Min exhaled softly dejectedly. He picked it up because of Romulus’ bad back and handed it to the other. “This is what Andrea wanted to show you. I gave him Chinese lessons, and he wanted to make you a gift out of it. I helped him write, ‘Thank you, father, for loving me and keeping me safe.’” Min had written most of it, but Andrea had signed his own name in Chinese at the bottom.

“Ah,” Romulus let out awkwardly. He stared at the tablet until there was almost no more light left in the day. When he had finally gotten sick of squinting in twilight, Romulus stuck the tablet under his arm. “You’re good with them,” Romulus said to Min. Min held onto Romulus’ arm as they walked on. “I need someone to be good with them.”

“Okay,” Min started nervously. In the atrium, slaves around them began lighting candelabras, but it was too late—the darkness had fallen.

Romulus opened the door to his bedroom and found exactly what Min suspected earlier in the morning. But Romulus, caught unawares, sighed with the weight of the world. “Why are my clothes strewn all over the floor?”

“You remember Agrippa wanted to do my hair,” Min answered, pointing at his updo, which had now wilted as much as the flowers. “He was searching for one of your flower crowns. I convinced him not to use it.”

After facing the mess silently for a moment, Romulus planted his face in his hands and began to shudder. “Why couldn’t they have appeared at any other time?”

Jumping at the sudden emotional deterioration, Min switched back into caretaker mode. He shut the bedroom door behind them and helped Romulus get out of his toga, as tears temporarily blinded the Roman. Min pretended not to see them for both men’s sakes.

When he was in a comfortable tunic, Min led Romulus to sit down on the edge of the bed. This was much more than a parent’s plea for help since Romulus had been away from the children all day and came home with bags under his eyes. In the weeks they were together, Min had gotten rid of the shake in Romulus’ arms. Now, it was back with a vengeance. Min grabbed the other by his shoulders and glared. “Tell me everything that happened at the Senate meeting.”

Romulus went into immediate emotional backpedaling. He sniffled and looked anywhere but Min. “I just can’t dump them on Maria for this long. She would help you, of course.”

“What do I need help with?” Min demanded softly. He pressed their noses together. “Where are you going?”

In the close proximity, Romulus could only stare down shamefully through the prison of his lashes. Min noticed a few teardrops dangling from the ends and wiped them away with a gentle finger. “War is much easier when it’s just you.”

With that, Min slapped the Roman’s cheek. Min barely heard the impact over the cacophony of his own racing heart. “It’s my job to be vague and alluringly mysterious! Tell me what is going on right now.”

“Okay, okay,” Romulus mumbled, rubbing his cheek and pouting. “Well… the meeting was called suddenly because we got the news that, earlier this spring, our emperor was captured in a battle with the Persians. We argued how, when, and even if we should save Valerian all day.”

“Oh, Ardashir.” Feeling a migraine building in his sinuses, Min pinched his nose bridge. “He will do anything for attention. Well, what did your government decide?”

“I was thinking back to a few weeks ago when you said emperors aren’t important.” Romulus snuck his hand forward to meet Min’s on the bed. Their fingers intertwined. “If that was it, I wouldn’t do anything. All that’s at stake is my pride, and I put everything my life, especially my children, before pride now. Valerian was mediocre at best, losing both the West and the East. He hasn’t set foot in Rome in years because he’s been off fighting. He recaptured the East, but his son is still trying to fix the West.”

Min bit his cheek. If he could edit his statement, he would possibly add the disclaimer that emperors aren’t important in China only. As he confessed to Andrea earlier, he did not know much about Romulus’ government. Somehow, he got the sense that Roman emperors were a bit more involved.

Raising his eyebrows, Min urged Romulus on. “So? What did they decide?”

“Well, it’s not just Valerian. We might be able to save his legions; spies say Shapur didn’t kill them, but transferred them somewhere else.” Romulus sighed. “And he’s marching on the city of Caesarea as we speak, which has too many good Romans to just let them be treated like cattle. Word has it he wants to relocate them to somewhere in Persia, like he did Valerian and his men.”

“Well, Ardashir is just jealous.” Min ran his thumb across Romulus’ knuckles comfortingly. “But… that means that you’re going on campaign. Oh, _xiǎobǎobèi_ , we’ve only been together for a few weeks. I was hoping for a few months.”

“I know, _columba,”_ Romulus whispered. Calling each other ‘little treasure’ and ‘little dove’—they were no older than the children. _“_ I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’ve never been more sorry for anything in my life.”

All Min could do was shrug so he didn’t cry. “Any time at all spent together is worth it. It was a good few weeks. But… you want _me_ to stay with the children? For how long?”

“...Not long,” Romulus said, his voice high pitched. “But yes, I am completely serious. They love you. I’ve never seen Andrea light up around someone like you. He was sleeping on you today; he won’t even sit on the same couch as my dinner guests.”

“Yes, but—” Min pulled his lips into a thin line. “Shouldn’t I come help? I can read Ardashir. I have some control over him. He hates us being together, but only I can de-escalate the situation.” Although, there was not much he could do militarily, because for some reason, Romans totally discounted his fighting styles and archery.

Romulus finally returned Min’s kiss from the courtyard. “There is no situation. I was just surprised by the news and then thrown off by the scene of pure domesticity when I got home. It’s just another skirmish, which have become a hobby at this point. And Ardashir is a fucking wuss.”

Both men chuckled at the sudden levity. Min continued, “Okay, you don’t need any help, Mr. Man. But why do the kids?”

“Things are much more unsafe in the city than they are abroad at this point,” Romulus groaned. “I hate to say that about my heart, my lifeline, but it’s true. I need to leave the boys with people that I can trust. I trust Helen, but she doesn’t know the city at all. She never wanted to spend time with me here, and I… can’t quite blame her.”

Min stared down at their intertwined hands. He had already announced a certain amount of time off to Cao Huan, and what was he going to do if he started traveling back early? Fuck off with Kshama? Arrive back just in time for the poor boy emperor’s funeral, which all knew was coming?

“Okay,” Min said emphatically after an eternal stretch of silence. “I will stay and watch the children.”

Romulus sighed, on the verge of tears again, and enveloped Min in the biggest bear hug. Nope, Romulus’ nation strength definitely had not gone, Min thought as his poor lungs were crushed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you, Min. I bet the whole thing will take less than a month.” If he was trying to convince Min, he was doing a terrible job. His thank you sounded like a parting before death. “And I’ll come home as quick as I can. I’ll even sail, if I have to. Then, we can spend some quality time together before you head home to China.”

It was a plan. It was too perfect of a plan, and it could never happen that way, but it was a plan.

The pair sat embracing on the bed for what seemed like centuries. Min didn’t ask when Romulus would be leaving. If he did, it would become all too real.

“ _Pater_! _Pater_!” “It’s time to eat dinner!”

The time, the children knocking on their door was a welcome intrusion. Romulus shouted that the door was open, and the boys rushed in while giggling before jumping into the adults’ laps. Min glanced at their blissfully unaware faces with a pang of guilt.

Min and Romulus communicated with eyes and eyebrows.

_Do we tell them yet?_

Romulus shook his head. _No._

Andrea, from his new home in Min’s arms, was the first to spot the wax tablet on the dresser across the room. As Agrippa and his father chatted about what Romulus had put on the dinner menu, Andrea tugged on Min’s sleeve. He whispered, “Did he see the gift?”

Patting Andrea’s curls, Min grinned until his cheeks burned. “Yes, he did.”

“Did he like it?” Andrea whispered even softer, blinking big brown eyes, preparing for the worst.

“Yes, he liked it. He loved it,” Min happily reported. After another bone-chilling pang of guilt, Min leaned down and pressed his lips to Andrea’s forehead. “He loves you.”


End file.
